Chapter 12
Miss Mary Bennet, somewhere in Scotland
Foot slipping, Mary leaned on the arm of the Colonel, his whispered reassurances giving the courage to continue on.
Had they been seen?she wondered as they neared the base of a hill, its height towering over them and casting a shadow in spite of the cloudy day.
“A little longer, then we can slow our pace,” Richard said as her foot slipped again, her quick nod and heavy breathing all the reply she might muster.
Shivering as a breeze whipped at her dress, the fabric almost dry, Mary tugged the blanket around her shoulders closer.
Though they held hope that making their way behind the hill might help evade detection, with each passing step a dread formed within Mary, a thousand possibilities darting about.Would they have to walk for hours? After it grew dark? Or rained? Or their path led them away from anyone who might help?
Still, though these thoughts forced their way in, Mary kept a silent, prayerful vigil.She would, for all the shirking of her heart, not give in to doubt or fear. Richard deserved better. She was better than that.
She had to be.
An hour or more later, stomach growling and the meager sips of water she paused to take doing little to quell her thirst, Mary noted that even the man beside her grew wearied, for he had gone as long and far as she, but had also had to assist her–carrying her after they forded the stream, supporting her when she stumbled.
Yes,Mary thought as she observed him; the unusual beard and torn, dirty clothes only adding to her estimation of him, knowing how they had come to be.Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had shown courage, compassion, bravery, determination, and strength.
An honourable man. A man one might…
The warmth of his hand upon hers stilling her thoughts, Mary turned her gaze to his as she halted.
“Come,” he urged, pointing out several large boulders tucked away from the wind. “We both could use a break.”
Legs heavy, she gladly obliged, her heart racing as he sat beside her instead of the adjoining boulder.
She would not complain.
Setting down their supplies, he lay the other blankets over their laps before digging through the rations she had hastily packed. Handing her a chunk of bread and some dried meat, he proceeded to provide himself with a similar ration.
“Thank you,” she smiled wearily; the food, though plain, of far greater quality than any even John had managed to provide them with.
Eyes closing as she savoured her first bite of bread, Mary pretended she and Richard were seated near Longbourn’s back garden on a bright, summer’s day, he having called on her as part of a courtship.
Face warming as she imagined him stealing a kiss, Mary’s eyes shot open, all at once fearful he could read her thoughts. And, though she knew such worries were unfounded, the soft smile the Colonel wore when she met his gaze made her question even the knowledge that the reading of minds was beyond him.
Turning her attention fully to the food at hand, she kept her head down, waiting for the warmth of her cheeks and the racing of her heart to still.Had her heart even raced that fast when they had been running?
Food eaten and her imaginations in check, Mary opened her flask as she risked a glance at Richard, his face set toward the open landscape, its appearance beautifully desolate on such a dark day. Indeed, were they not being followed, such views might have stirred her heart. As things stood, however, the view could only lead to dread.
“Should we press on?” she asked, her gaze turning behind them.
A frown forming, he nodded, “If you are able?”
“I am,” she assured him, though her legs upon standing were as unsteady as a newborn lamb’s, they had no choice.
With one last look behind them, Richard took up their remaining supplies, his expression growing grave as he viewed her, “Should you require rest at any point, or an arm, or even need me to carry you, do not hesitate to ask; we are in this together. Is that not so?”
“Together,” she smiled, “Always.”
Stepping out they resumed their journey, her eyes twinkling as some minutes later she teased, “I suppose soon it will be my turn to carry you. It would behoove me to return the favour now before it garners interest, though I fear I cannot promise not to drop you.”
Chuckling, he glanced down as if to take her measure. “Rest would be agreeable. However, my worry is that, should you get me off the ground, what will become of my head? You see, I only have the one, and as you have claimed you are likely to drop me, I fear I must decline your offer of tit for tat repayment. When we are sitting in Longbourn’s best room, I instead request payment in the form of sweet tarts and a playing of my favourite song. If you are willing?”
Pulling her lips to one side, she pretended to consider his offer. “No exact exchange then? Hmm. And what sort of sweet tart would you expect? Also, I should know the length of your favourite song, for some require a great deal of time to perfect.”
